Persian love elegies To which is added The nymph of Tauris [by John Wolcot] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
ELEGY XII.
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| XIII. |
 | Persian love elegies |  |
31
ELEGY XII.
[Soft as the sighs of her who died for love]
SELIM BEING INFORMED THAT HIS MISTRESS WAS FORCED FROM HER HABITATION BY THE ARABS; THAT SHE WAS RECOVERED BY SOME PERSIAN SOLDIERY AND CARRIED TO THE EMPEROR'S HARAM; HE LAMENTS HER MISFORTUNE.
Soft as the sighs of her who died for love,
The plaintive lute of Pity moans forlorn:
From Irvan's bow'rs, and Siloe's ravag'd grove,
The melting airs of Melancholy mourn.
The plaintive lute of Pity moans forlorn:
From Irvan's bow'rs, and Siloe's ravag'd grove,
The melting airs of Melancholy mourn.
Fair hapless virgin by thy charms undone,
Dimm'd is the living lustre of thy eye,
Dimm'd are those radiant rivals to the sun,
Which drew from ev'ry Persian youth the sigh.
Dimm'd is the living lustre of thy eye,
Dimm'd are those radiant rivals to the sun,
Which drew from ev'ry Persian youth the sigh.
Along my groves had Mirva deign'd to stray,
For seldom now in peace her eye-lids close,
Sweet Innocence had bless'd her chearful Day,
And Love had charm'd her Evening to Repose.
For seldom now in peace her eye-lids close,
Sweet Innocence had bless'd her chearful Day,
And Love had charm'd her Evening to Repose.
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No more shall dove-ey'd Innocence delight,
To lead her smiling through the rural shade:
From her she wings, for ever wings her flight,
Whilst Love forsakes the solitary maid.
To lead her smiling through the rural shade:
From her she wings, for ever wings her flight,
Whilst Love forsakes the solitary maid.
Th'exulting rose of Zulpha's balmy vale,
That lately droop'd at thy superior bloom,
Now waves in wanton triumph to the gale,
Proclaims thy fall, and pleas'd insults thy Doom.
That lately droop'd at thy superior bloom,
Now waves in wanton triumph to the gale,
Proclaims thy fall, and pleas'd insults thy Doom.
Oh! had thy star condemn'd each virgin grace,
Beneath the blasting hand of death to fade,
Calm had I led thee to the tomb of peace,
Deck'd thy pale shrine, and hail'd thy spotless shade.
Beneath the blasting hand of death to fade,
Calm had I led thee to the tomb of peace,
Deck'd thy pale shrine, and hail'd thy spotless shade.
The youth of Persia round thy honor'd bier,
With white-stol'd nymphs had breath'd the softest sighs,
Thy fate had forc'd from ev'ry lid the tear,
Thy sweet remains with fragrance fill'd the skies.
With white-stol'd nymphs had breath'd the softest sighs,
Thy fate had forc'd from ev'ry lid the tear,
Thy sweet remains with fragrance fill'd the skies.
The gentlest Spirits had thy grave adorn'd,
With ev'ry flow'r of Zulpha's green domain.
There had their nightly harps melodious mourn'd,
And Virtue's sigh had swell'd the tender strain.
With ev'ry flow'r of Zulpha's green domain.
There had their nightly harps melodious mourn'd,
And Virtue's sigh had swell'd the tender strain.
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Nor Virtue's sigh on Mirva's grave shall mourn,
Nor spirits strike their lyres where thou art laid,
No white-rob'd virgins weeping o'er thy urn,
With melting swains shall wail thy sullen shade.
Nor spirits strike their lyres where thou art laid,
No white-rob'd virgins weeping o'er thy urn,
With melting swains shall wail thy sullen shade.
No early warbler on thy turf shall sing,
Nor nightly o'er thee waste his little breath;
But boding ravens wave the dusky wing,
And mournful croak the hoarse dread dirge of death.
Nor nightly o'er thee waste his little breath;
But boding ravens wave the dusky wing,
And mournful croak the hoarse dread dirge of death.
Lo! far from thee the breeze shall breathe perfume,
And storms indignant howl around thy head;
The light'nings livid blaze shall fire the gloom,
And pealing thunder rock thy lonely bed.
And storms indignant howl around thy head;
The light'nings livid blaze shall fire the gloom,
And pealing thunder rock thy lonely bed.
What bosom pants not for the voice of Fame?
With thee thy mem'ry sleeps within the tomb:
Lo! pale Oblivion o'er thy blasted name,
Shall wave with sullen look his deepest gloom.
With thee thy mem'ry sleeps within the tomb:
Lo! pale Oblivion o'er thy blasted name,
Shall wave with sullen look his deepest gloom.
What have I said inspir'd by frantic woe?
In Fame's fair page thy sacred Name shall live:
For thee, tho' fall'n, the tear of Pity flow,
Whilst tender Pity hath a tear to give.
In Fame's fair page thy sacred Name shall live:
For thee, tho' fall'n, the tear of Pity flow,
Whilst tender Pity hath a tear to give.
| Persian love elegies | |